The Villainess Refuses to Follow the Script-Chapter 95

The council meeting began early, the hall still heavy with the faint chill of morning air. Beatrice took her usual seat beside Francois, who looked pale but markedly steadier than the night before. His fever had ebbed, though not entirely. Every now and then, Beatrice caught him pressing his fingers against his temples like he could will the dizziness away.

Queen Cecile noticed, too.

"You should be resting," she said sharply after Francois stumbled slightly on a turn of phrase.

"I am capable," Francois answered, voice low but firm.

"Capable doesn’t mean invincible," Beatrice murmured under her breath.

He glanced sideways at her, caught between amusement and stubbornness. She held his gaze until he relented with a sigh, leaning a fraction more into his chair.

The morning’s agenda was grim. Reports from the border remained absent. General Roenne had only departed the night before, and news from the frontier would take hours, if not longer. In the meantime, council members speculated over causes, suspects, and next moves. Beatrice spoke only when necessary, mind carefully turning over possibilities.

She knew her family’s tactics. If the Da Villes were fanning the flames, it would look like a mistake. A random clash, a convenient miscommunication.

She kept her expression neutral, her hands folded neatly atop her lap.

The meeting adjourned near midday. As they filed out, Francois caught her arm.

"Join me for brunch?" he asked.

"You should be in bed," Beatrice said, but her voice softened.

"Exactly why I need an accomplice to make poor decisions with."

She huffed a quiet laugh and nodded in defeat.

They made their way to the smaller dining hall, a place reserved for less formal gatherings. The staff immediately laid out a modest spread of buttered scones, cold cuts, fresh jam, and poached pears.

Beatrice was pouring tea when the doors banged open.

"I’m joining!" Princess Lila announced brightly.

Beatrice hid a grimace behind the teapot. Francois simply waved her in.

"We suspected as much."

Lila plopped into the seat beside Beatrice and helped herself to a scone.

"Johanna’s leaving tomorrow," she said through a mouthful of pastry.

Beatrice stilled.

"Sprain’s better," Lila continued. "The physicians said she can travel if she’s careful."

Francois caught her gaze across the table. Relief flickered between them.

They finished brunch in relative peace, Lila chattering enough for all three of them. Beatrice allowed herself to relax, just slightly, until her mind drifted back to her chambers and the warm weight usually tucked against her pillow.

When she returned to her rooms, the first thing she noticed was the silence.

"Lily?" she called.

No answer.

Beatrice swept through the parlor, the bedroom, even under the settee.

No kitten.

Panic rose sharp and fast. She flung open the door into the hallway, grabbing the nearest passing steward.

"Have you seen a black kitten?"

The steward blinked. "N-no, my lady. Shall I alert the staff?"

"Yes. Now!"

Within minutes, the palace was buzzing. Servants searched under tapestries, behind curtains, through laundry baskets and storage closets. Even a few junior pages joined the hunt, treating it like an unsanctioned game.

Beatrice stood frozen in the middle of her chambers, hands clenched.

What if Elisha had wandered too far? What if she’d been taken?

Francois appeared in the doorway, out of breath and still flushed from fever.

"What happened?"

"I can’t find her," she said, her voice cracking despite herself.

He crossed to her immediately, placing both hands on her shoulders.

"We’ll find her."

She swallowed hard, nodding.

Footsteps echoed down the hall. Lila skidded into view, panting.

"We found her!"

Beatrice exhaled sharply. "Where?"

Lila hesitated. "Johanna has her."

The coldness that swept through Beatrice was instant.

"What?"

"She said she found the kitten outside your door and didn’t want her to get stepped on. She’s been... playing with her."

Francois tightened his grip on her shoulders briefly before letting go.

Beatrice moved.

She didn’t run. But she walked, fast and with purpose, through the east wing corridors, past confused servants and whispering courtiers. She didn’t stop until she reached the guest chambers Johanna had been given.

She knocked twice before pushing the door harshly.

Johanna blinked, looking up from where she sat cross-legged on the carpet, Elisha batting at a ribbon she dangled.

"Oh," she said, startled. "I was just about to bring her back—"

"Now," Beatrice said, extending her arms.

Johanna hesitated, then lifted the kitten carefully into her waiting hands.

Elisha gave a soft, protesting mewl but settled almost immediately against Beatrice’s chest.

"She was outside," Johanna said quickly. "When I passed your door earlier. I didn’t want her getting hurt."

"Next time," Beatrice said, voice cool, "bring her inside. Don’t take what’s not yours."

Johanna flushed, looking down.

She tightened her grip around Elisha, feeling the tiny kitten tremble faintly against her chest. She refused to look at Johanna for a long moment, choosing instead to press her face lightly against the kitten’s soft fur and breathe in the faint, dusty smell of her.

Francois appeared beside her, sensing the tension.

"I’m sorry," Johanna said after a beat, shifting awkwardly where she stood. "I only meant to play with her for a little while. I didn’t think—"

"You didn’t think," Beatrice echoed quietly, but there was no sharpness in her voice. It was a brittle kind of calm.

She straightened and stroked Elisha’s head, checking her over with careful, clinical fingers. No injuries. No sign she’d been dropped or handled too roughly. Still, it took all of her restraint not to hiss something she couldn’t take back.

Francois cleared his throat.

"Perhaps it’s best if Elisha stays close to her rooms from now on," he said smoothly, offering Johanna a way out without further embarrassment.

Johanna nodded quickly, ducking her head. "Of course. I’m sorry, Lady Beatrice."

Beatrice said nothing. She simply turned on her heel and carried Elisha back toward her chambers, Francois falling into step beside her without needing to be asked.

When they reached her door, she pushed it open and let the kitten squirm free onto the carpet. Elisha immediately bolted toward her favorite corner by the window, disappearing behind a pile of velvet cushions.

Only once the door was firmly closed did Beatrice let herself sag slightly against it.

"Calm down." Francois reached for her.

"I’m fine," she said stiffly.

"You’re furious."

"I’m—" She stopped and exhaled. Rubbed her temples with both hands. "I just..."

"Elisha is safe."

Francois stepped closer.

"You’re allowed to care about things," he said, voice low. "You’re allowed to love things."

Beatrice looked up at him, eyes stinging more than she wanted to admit.

"It’s not just the cat."

"I know."

She closed her eyes for a moment, gathering herself. When she opened them again, Francois was smiling gently.

"Come here," he said.

And when she stepped into his arms, he held her with a kind of quiet reverence, like she was something he intended to protect whether she liked it or not.

"You won’t lose her," he said into her hair. "Or me."

Beatrice allowed herself to believe him for a moment. When she finally pulled back, he brushed a thumb lightly across her cheekbone.

"Better?"

"Slightly."

"Then come," he said. "You should rest. Elisha will keep watch." 𝚏𝕣𝐞𝗲𝐰𝕖𝐛𝐧𝕠𝕧𝚎𝚕.𝐜𝚘𝗺

Beatrice huffed a reluctant laugh and let him guide her toward the armchair by the fire. He fetched a blanket from the settee and draped it over her legs, moving with the kind of practiced ease that made her chest ache.

Elisha, sensing the shift in the room, poked her head out from the pillows and scampered over, leaping clumsily into her lap.

Francois grinned. "Your guard has returned."

"She’s a ferocious defender," Beatrice said, smoothing a hand down the kitten’s tiny back.

Francois crouched beside the chair, resting one arm across the armrest. He stayed there quietly while the fire crackled and Elisha purred against Beatrice’s hand.

Time passed without urgency.

Outside, the afternoon light faded into a soft, uncertain dusk. Somewhere deep in the palace, bells began to ring, signaling the change of the watch.

Beatrice shifted slightly, looking down at Francois. He looked back and touched her hand. A brush of fingertips against the curve of her wrist.

Beatrice let her eyes drift closed for a moment, listening to the rhythm of Elisha’s purrs, the low hum of the fire, and the heartbeat she knew was steady even when everything else in her world was not.